In Some Fifty Years From Now

The grey shrike thrush whistles on the wattle bough
I wonder in some fifty years from now
Will somebody one of his descendants hear
Sing in the wood in the Spring of the year?
Due to habitat destruction and pollution of water and air
Wildlife nowadays becoming far more rare
In fifty years from now will the woods ring
To music of the feathered minstrels of the Spring
In fifty years from now I will not be around
But will there still be the big wood on the high ground
Or for the saw mill will all of the trees have been cut down
And in place of the wood men will build a new town
And will his descendants be heard sing in some fifty years from now
The grey shrike thrush whistling on the wattle bough?